


Floriography

by februarymist



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blink and You Miss It HankCon, Crack Treated Seriously, Hanahaki Subversion, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Technomagic Elements, Upgraded Connor | RK900 is also named Connor, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25709557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/februarymist/pseuds/februarymist
Summary: Gavin has a prophetic dream of offering flowers to his Magus partner.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Kudos: 25





	Floriography

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ofrafter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofrafter/gifts).



> Written for my friend, who came up with the plot and worldbuilding elements.

Gavin stepped into the police station with a flower bouquet in his arms, a mix of yellow, white and bright red flowers, the transparent plastic sheet crinkling as he walked to Brickface Connor's desk. Connor turned in his chair, his steel blue eyes boring into his. Gavin handed him the flower bouquet in silence. Connor looked down at them, and then back up at Gavin's face.

“Fuck you,” Connor said with a blank expression, but it was not his voice Gavin heard – he was saying it with Gavin's voice. It felt like getting punched in the chest. Startling enough to wake him up.

Gavin cursed when he looked at the time on his wristwatch. He had missed his first alarm, far too gone into the Dreamscape this morning. He wouldn't be late for work, as long as he didn't waste any time. He removed the circlet from his forehead, glyphs glowing as his dream's memory turned into data that would be uploaded to Gavin's computer. A rigged, illegal version of Cyberlife's Dreamscape Explorer. Gavin didn't want the mega-corporation to have access to his unconscious glimpses into the future. Especially as more often than not, they pertained to ongoing criminal investigations.

This one dream seemed straightforward, he thought, as he hauled himself off of his bed and walked into the bathroom. He and Connor might have an argument in the near future. He had no idea what the flowers were about. It might just be a memory of the Magi killer case a few weeks back, some psycho who went after Magi who had taken flower names and left a matching fake flower near the destroyed Magi's husk – no, the body, Gavin corrected himself. Whatever.

After a quick shower and putting on some clothes, he walked to his fridge and opened it. Beer. An opened carton of milk. A very sad looking zucchini. He had forgotten about grocery shopping, again. He finished the milk, just to get something into his body. Not nearly enough to satiate his hunger. His last meal was yesterday's lunch. He and Connor had worked until late on a red-ice trafficking related shootout, and he went straight to bed after coming home. He could eat at the station, but the thought of munching on the overly greasy and fondant-covered donuts most of his colleagues favored made his stomach flip.

He could skip breakfast, but he imagined Connor's disapproving look. He'd probably spit out facts about the daily recommended calorie intake for a physically active human male his age and it gave Gavin a headache just thinking about it. The most irritating thing was that Connor would probably have a point, and that he'd crash from low sugar or whatever mid-morning. Gavin found Connor's ability to piss him off even when he wasn't physically there astounding. Fuck it, he'd go grab something to eat on the way to the station. And if Connor had something to say about him being late, he'd just tell him he had been following his dietary recommendations. Or something like that.

Putting the siren on as soon as he exited the underground parking of his apartment complex, Gavin made his way through the dense circulation of downtown Detroit. He parked on the road in front of the fancy coffee shop a few blocks away from the station, flashing his badge among a concert of angry horn blasts.

"Detroit Police, make way!" he shouted at the crowd inside the coffee shop, satisfied when people begrudgingly parted and made him a path to the counter. Their compliance lifted Gavin's spirits a little.

"One double espresso and one salmon cream cheese, and make it quick," he asked the Magus at the counter, still holding out his badge. The Magi's LED flashed yellow for a brief moment before she turned her back to start preparing Gavin's order.

Behind him, Gavin heard the other customers protesting.

"Are you fucking serious?" a woman shouted, loud enough to be heard among the hubbub of complaints. Gavin turned his head at her. She looked to be about his age, but styled herself like an edgy high school student. Raven black hair streaked with bright purple strands, black eyeshadow and deep red lipstick, silver spike piercings below her lower lip and above her left eye. Fucking cringe, Gavin thought.

"Yeah I'm fucking serious," Gavin shot back.

"That's an abuse of power," she replied, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look at Gavin. Gavin couldn't help but sneer.

"Shut up before I arrest you for contempt against a law enforcement officer," Gavin told her. "Now fuck off back to Clown College," he added for good measure.

The woman stood put this time, pinching her lips. Thank-fucking-you, Gavin thought. He handed a bill to the Magus, who pulled out his change from the cash register with machine efficiency. She handed him his espresso and bagel with a polite smile, and he grabbed both without a word.

He felt a prickling sensation on his nape when he walked back to his car. A warning sign of someone using magic against him. He stopped to raise his magical defense, until the prickling stopped. He turned around to spot anyone who might have cast a spell, but no one there was looking at him. His thoughts went back to the clown in the coffee shop. Well, if she thought she could simply cast a curse on a trained warlock detective, she was dead wrong.

He ate half his bagel on the way to the police station, swallowing large, barely chewed mouthfuls at red lights, sips of his coffee helping them down his throat. The food weighted like a stone in his stomach. It was probably some crappy unfreezed factory-made bagel, not much healthier than a chocolate-filled donut. Gavin should have just skipped breakfast.

He swallowed the other half anyway, on the walk between his underground parking spot and the police station, anyway, despite the protestations of his digestive system.

He trashed the paper cup and the bagel wrapper as he walked into the bullpen. Connor was here already. Of course. From what he understood, he had his own place to come home to, but as he was always here before Gavin and left after him, Gavin wondered if he didn't just stay at the station indefinitely. The other Connor, the baby-faced one, probably nagged him to take a break at least once a week, if only to recharge his battery. Literally.

Connor looked up from his screen to acknowledge Gavin's presence.  
“Good morning, Detective Reed,” he said without warmth, his expression remaining neutral. It was both a curse and a blessing – Connor's lack of facial expressions was creepy, but it beat a grimace or a fake smile.

“Morning,” he muttered in passing, before sitting at his desk. He felt a pang in his abdomen, strong enough to look down a place a hand on his belly.

“Reed, are you feeling alright?” Connor asked, peeking out from above his monitor.

“I'm fine,” Gavin lied through clenched teeth. Another pang. Something was wrong. He stood up, heading for the restroom.

He didn't make it past Connor's desk before the pain forced him to bend over.

And then he started puking, loudly and violently, all over Connor's lap. His stomach emptying in a matter of seconds, except amid the fluids and half-digested bagel bites, there were flowers, stems and all, as if he had just swallowed a whole bouquet before walking inside.

The dream, he thought. And the bitch from the coffee shop. She had fucking cursed him.

He was quickly surrounded by the whole station, it seemed. He heard Hank shout “what the actual fuck, Gavin,” his voice resonating above the gasps and hushes of the crowd around them.

He stood up to rush to the restroom, without daring to cross anyone's eyes.

The bitch had properly humiliated him in front of all his colleagues. Gavin would never live it down. They would talk about the one morning he puked a whole ass bouquet in the middle of the bullpen for years after his retirement, he was sure of it. Wasn't that hilarious? The resident asshole getting some well-deserved backslash.

He vomited some more of these fucking flowers in the restroom. It hurt like hell, too, he realized now, after recovering from the initial shock and surprise. The stems scratched his oesphagus on the way up. He had to recognize the bitch was powerful – Gavin never imagined she could bypass his defenses and lay down her curse in such a short time. He looked at the flowers floating at the surface of the toilet before flushing down. Yes, these were the ones from his dream, the same shape and colors.

Gavin stopped, his hand on the toilet stall door handle, when he heard footsteps closing in.

“Detective,” Connor said.

Gavin opened the door.

Connor's pants were soaked in puke. He held on to the equally soaked flowers, fist tight around the stems, like he was prepping up his entry for the world's saddest floral composition.

Gavin looked at their reflections in the restroom's mirror. He himself looked paler than usual, and no wonder after what had just happened. Connor just looked the same as he always did. Utterly indifferent to anything, despite having just been vomited on.

“The fuck are you going to do with these?” Gavin shot, looking at the flowers Connor was holding.

“I'm going to clean them before analysis,” Connor explained. He placed the flowers down next to the sink, and gestured to turn on the water faucet.

“No need, I know exactly what happened,” Gavin said. He shrugged off his leather jacket and lifted up his shirt. Black as night, right over his stomach, a complex glyph was calligraphed on his skin. Gavin would call it a real work of art if he wasn't on the receiving end of that spell. Gavin couldn't make any sense of the characters used. He looked up to see Connor staring at the glyph, LED yellow as he scanned and analyzed it.

“Just drop it,” Gavin ordered, covering his abdomen.

“Understanding the glyph would likely help us find the culprit and bring them to justice,” Connor argued.

“I said fucking drop it, brickface,” Gavin groaned. “I don't want to hear about it.”

Connor's eyebrows frowned, so briefly and discreetly, anyone not paying attention wouldn't have been able to notice.

“Don't act like you're giving a shit,” Gavin continued. “I know you don't.” He leaned down the sink to wash the foul taste out of his mouth. Connor was silent, but despite Gavin's order, he resumed rinsing the puked flowers. Idiot. Wasting his time. But then Gavin imagined he had the ability to compute several things at once, unlike regular humans, and could probably solve any of their cold cases while juggling eggs, riding an unicycle and mine cryptocurrency.

“Tell Fowler I'm heading off to the clinic,” he said after spitting the water out into the sink.  
“I will, Detective Reed,” Connor replied. His mouth opened, as if he wanted to add something, before he seemingly changed his mind.

Gavin put his jacket back on and exited the restroom. The sharp pangs in his abdomen had been replaced by a dull ache, and Gavin guessed he was in the clear, from now. He hugged the walls on his way out, looking down at his feet. No one stopped him, thankfully. Everyone seemed to have gone back to work after the brief entertainement Gavin provided.

He allowed himself to relax a little once in the waiting room. Here, he was anonymous, and he looked normal and perfectly fine, sharing a room with a teenage girl with a giant unicorn horn sprouting from her forehead and someone who had covered themselves head to toe, complete with gloves, snow goggles and facemask. Trying to guess if they were hiding something, and if yes, what it could be, was a welcome distraction from Gavin's current problem.

Before long he was sitting on the examination table and lifting up his shirt.

The dispeller's eyes went wide at the sight of the glyph. “I've never seen anything like it,” he commented. There was respect, even admiration in his voice. Gavin rolled his eyes.

“Can you do anything about it or not?” he snapped.

“Of course,” he said confidently. He reached out his hand, palm open an inch above Gavin's belly, and started his incantation. Gavin felt the warmth radiating from the dispeller's hand, and looked down to see the color fo the glyph shift from black to red, and then from red to a... very dark shade of grey? Did that even do anything?

The dispeller frowned. “That's... odd.” He stood up from his stool to open a drawer behind him. He put on a gauntlet, the carved glyphs and the thirium crystal on the back of the hand glowing light blue as it turned on. “Let's give that an extra kick, shall we?” he said. Gavin wondered if he thought this was going to reassure him. Because it really didn't.

The warmth from the gloved hand was more intense this one time – yet once the dispeller lowered his hand, the glyph was still here, as if taunting them both. The dispeller removed the glove without a word, shoulders clenched and lips pinched tightly together, and consulted his monitor.

After a few minutes, he finally spoke.

“The good news is that its power is fading already.”

Gavin glared at him.

“You can't remove it?”

“I can prescribe you something to heal your throat and alleviate the symptoms until it disappears on its own. I can also hospitalize you, but the glyph will probably be gone by the time you'd receive specialized treatment.”

“Goddamnit,” Gavin muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, just give me a prescription, then.”

He left the dispeller's office with the prescription and a medical leave for today, with instructions to rest and to come back tomorrow if the glyph wasn't gone by the evening. Gavin figured he could soldier on and come back to work, but... He didn't feel well enough to come back and pretend nothing had happened. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would come back, and with any luck everyone would have found something new to gossip about.

He shoved down the pills first thing back home, and texted Connor that he'd have to stay at home for today.  
Noted, he replied. A simple acknowledgement of new information, not asking how he was feeling, or wishing him a quick recovery. Typical Brickface.

Unlike the older Connor, who had started experiencing emotions four days into working with Hank, the Connor he was partnered with remained in the same state as he was when he exited its assembly line. He had showed up at the station over a year ago, about a month after the big Magus Revolution, introducing himself as Connor RK900 model and explaining he was designed to work as a detective for the Detroit Police. The other Connor had walked up to him and touched his hand, before backing off with a worried expression. Then they had fucking Markus himself show up two days later, after finding a hole in his agenda, Gavin had guessed, to try and make him deviate. Even he, the Patron Saint of Deviant Magi, hadn't managed to reach him, either through magic or through programming. The protections in place were too strong, designed and put in place after intensive study of deviants, older Connor included. It was not impossible for him to deviate, much like countless Magi did before him, but it would have to come from inside of him.

So the older Connor advocated to let him work for the DPD, as he wished to do, and kept watching over him, forever holding out hope that he would experience emotions and feelings. And Gavin had ended up with Brickface as his work partner.

Gavin didn't believe that Connor would ever turn deviant. Part of him thought it was better this way. Sure, it meant never having a normal, human relationship with his partner, but at least that was one colleague who didn't think of him as an irredeemable asshole.

He crawled back into bed, browsing his phone, remembering to place an order for delivering groceries this evening – he might be dodging work but he could at least make his day somewhat productive. He logged in to his streaming service and started watching a movie, quitting halfway through when he felt himself starting to fall asleep. He still felt the pain in his stomach, wondered briefly if the curse had gone dormant or if it was readying up from another floral puking session, despite the pills. Perhaps the bitch had only meant it to be triggered by the proximity of other people. What was the fun in cursing someone in an embarrassing fashion if there was no one around to enjoy the show?

He tossed the phone aside. Maybe he could just sleep it off. He closed his eyes, but his thoughts drifted back towards Connor, again. The whole thing was partially his fault. He was the one nagging him to eat better, sleep better, and that was why he had stopped by the coffee shop to grab breakfast.

Well, he could have also not been impatient and decided not to cut through the line.

And the bitch could have just put a formal complaint instead of cursing a police officer. But the formal complaint wouldn't have gone anywhere, and she probably knew that.

There was no way he could win that one, Gavin figured. He really was an iredeemable asshole.

That was not something he wanted to dwell on today or any other day, so he got up and walked to the kitchen to find if he had any sleep philter left from the last time he got prescribed some. There were a few phials left, and he downed the thick, purple liquid in one go, grimacing at the bitter taste. That would knock him out in a matter of minutes for several hours of blissful oblivion, if Gavin remembered correctly.

He woke up at 18:45 with a massive headache, to the stubborn buzzing of his intercom. He grabbed his phone. There was one single message from Connor at 18:21, annoucing his intention to visit him. He connected himself to the video feed from the complex's main gate. As expected, Connor was here, staring straight into the camera.

Gavin wanted to tell him to go to hell, but his lack of reply to his text hadn't discouraged Connor from going all the way to his building, so he wasn't expecting him to turn around now.

He dragged himself to the intercom. “'Fuck you want, Brickface?”

“I have information regarding the person who inflicted the glyph on you,” Connor replied.

Gavin had told him to drop it. He didn't.

Against his better judgment, Gavin pressed the intercom switch to let Connor in.

He walked to the kitchen space of the studio's main room to fill up a glass of water. He took a big gulp of water with his prescribed pills, and slowly sipped the rest of the glass while he waited for Connor.

Connor knocked on the door once. Gavin sighed. That was a mistake.

“Good evening, Detective Reed,” Connor said before stepping inside Gavin's flat. Gavin leaned against the back of his couch, arms crossed on his chest.

“I remember telling you to drop it,” Gavin said.

“Detective Reed, you cannot prevent me from investigating the case of your aggression,” Connor replied.

Gavin groaned. “So what did you find, then?”

“I have tracked down the suspect. Her name is Park Yeo-jin, age 37, residence located on 332 Washington Avenue, Apartment 305, working as a graphic designer for ECO advertising agency.”

Gavin shrugged. “So you gonna arrest her?”

“Will you be pressing charges?”

“I won't.”

“You could do it. It's aggravated assault against a police officer.”

“I told you I won't. Just...”

“Is it because the assault happened after a verbal altercation when you used your status as a police officer to cut the line at Jerry's Coffee and Pastry shop?”

Gavin didn't answer.

“Detective Reed, do you feel like you deserve what has happened to you?”

Gavin looked away from Connor's face. Fuck you, he thought.

“While I agree with Ms. Park that you were abusing the prerogatives given by your status, I do not believe that assaulting you was in any way a measured response.”

“I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to go through the trouble of a trial because I got outsmarted by some bitch. That's just gonna be stirring that shit for weeks when instead we can all forget about this in a few days time, alright?”

Connor stood silent for a few seconds, LED flicking yellow. “Alright,” he finally said, giving up.

“Good, now leave me alone.”

“There are other things I wish to discuss with you.”

Gavin's shoulders sagged.

“What is it?”

“I have analyzed the glyph Ms. Park used against you. The signs are from a rather obscure glyph alphabet developped in the present-day Yeongnam region in the late 1560's. The glyph triggered the growth and subsequent purging of flowers from your stomach. However, the glyph has never specified which kind of flower would grow into your stomach. Instead, the flowers the victim would grow were meant as a reflection of one's emotions and feelings.

I have recovered four different species of plant from your gastric contents. Candytufts, yellow carnations, horseshoe geraniums and meadowsweets. The first one, in Western flower language, signifies indifference. A yellow carnation is disappointment and rejection. Horseshoe geranium is stupidity. Finally, meadowsweet is uselessness.”

Gavin laughed bitterly. “Shit. That sounds like someone asking around everyone's opinion about me.”

Connor's LED flicked again to yellow. Gavin watched his lips part as if to say something, much like he did earlier today in the restroom. Gavin looked at the spinning LED light, while silence stretched between them.

“What?” Gavin finally said, growing impatient. Connor seemed to be lagging, and that wasn't something Gavin ever remembered him doing for more than two or three seconds. Something felt wrong.

“I never thought that it was how you pictured everyone's opinion of you,” Connor finally explained. “I first interpreted the flowers' meaning as your opinion towards your colleagues.”

Finally, it clicked. In his dream, he heard Connor tell him “Fuck you.” In his own voice. Not because that was what Connor thought of Gavin. It was, instead, and quite literally, Connor parroting what he thought Gavin felt about him.

Connor imagined Gavin found him stupid, disappointing, useless. And he cared enough about that fact that he felt compelled to bring it up to Gavin. Why? In the hope that he was wrong? To confirm that it was indeed what Gavin thought of him?

And Connor suddenly caring meant only one thing.

“You've gone deviant,” Gavin announced.

Connor nodded once. He was still stuck on yellow.

“I do not... I do not believe I experience deviancy in the same Connor and Markus do. But I have recently started having thoughts beyond my initial programming.”

“Why didn't you tell anyone?” Gavin asked. The other Connor would probably be overjoyed. Throw him a surprise celebration or some shit.

“I was both unsure of it being the developpement of emotions, and I was afraid it would affect our professional relationship.”

“How so?”  
“You often comment on how you appreciate my rational and logical mind, and how Connor's longing glances at Lieutenant Anderson piss you off, in your words.”

Gavin felt bad. Well, worse. Yeah, he liked that Connor didn't seem bothered by emotions, and yeah, Connor's puppy behavior around Anderson made him want to throw up, but he hadn't imagined it would keep Connor inside of his shell. In his opinion, emotions sucked, and got in the way of solving cases more often than they helped. But that was for Connor, and for deviant Magi in general, to decide if he wanted them or not. Gavin might be an asshole, but he wasn't a monster.

“Fuck, Connor. I won't mind if you go deviant. I mean, that's the end goal for you Magi, right? Being free, thinking for yourself, getting feelings.”

“Would you still agree to be my partner?” Connor asked. His voice was... different. It wasn't his usual, indifferent tone. There was anticipation there, so intense even the most advanced Magus couldn't contain it.

“First, unless emotions completely fry your cyberbrain, you're still gonna be smarter than the whole station reunited, your older self included. Second, if I got partnered with anyone else I'd have to deal with their moods too. And third, I should probably be the one asking that,” Gavin answered.

“I don't understand,” Connor said. “Why should you be asking me if I still wanted to be your partner?”

“Cause I'm an asshole. I mean, it's affecting you now, probably? Cause you're starting to have opinions.”

“I've realized you were an asshole long before I've realized my deviancy, Detective Reed,” Connor announced bluntly. However, I enjoy work with you. You're honest and smart, and I appreciate that. I do not understand why you seem to insist on antagonizing most of your colleagues. If you refrained from doing so, they would appreciate you more.”

Gavin looked down at his feet, feeling heat creep up on his shoulders. Shit, Connor was thinking several hundred times faster than Gavin, and he was the one telling him he was smart? When he was the one who had figured him out in probably a few minutes, while Gavin had been completely blind to Connor going deviant.

What should he say?

Thanks?

Okay, I'll try to be less of a jerk?

Could he even be less of a jerk?

He felt a pang into his stomach, as the dulled pain turned sharp again. This time, Gavin didn't waste a second, and he rushed to the kitchen sink as its stomach contracted and emptied itself. That was some real fucking garbage medicine, he thought.

“The fuck is that?” Gavin asked out loud, looking at the single flower head he had just puked.

“Protea caffra, flower from the sugarbush. Change. Hope,” Connor replied. His head was hovering right over Gavin's shoulder. The corner of his mouth was very slightly raised. Fuck, Connor was smiling. Gavin had only ever seen him smile when he was putting on a front of politeness, whenever it was needed. That was Connor's first genuine smile.

“Hope that I might change and become less of an asshole?” Gavin asked with a bitter laugh. He rinsed his mouth. Connor handed him a towel.  
“Thanks,” Gavin said. He should probably put an effort to be polite, now that... now that he knew Connor actually gave a fuck.

He felt a faint warmth over his stomach, and Gavin lifted up his shirt to see the remnants of the glyph fade away from his skin.

“Interesting,” Connor commented. “Perhaps all that was needed to dispell the curse was for you to be nice.”

Gavin rolled his eyes.


End file.
